The Ear
by greatprongsofdendalus
Summary: A direct continuation of the last chapter (not counting the epilogue) in Chasing the Prophecy. Jason makes an unfortunate discovery while hiking in the fuming waste. K plus for sadness.


"Jason?" Aram called, his voice having deepened when the sun set a few hours ago. "What's holding you up?" Corinne turned to face him as well. They both paused and stared at him expectantly.

Jason had stopped walking several seconds ago, hardly aware of either of his companions or the edge of the Fuming Waste looming ahead of him, unable to stop staring at the ear in his hand. "It's Ferrin's ear," he managed. "It's..." He set his jaw. "Ferrin is dead."

Ferrin had been right—it was hard to miss. The ear had grown cold, and blood now stained the hand that held it. Jason's stomach twisted, a knot forming in his throat. He felt on the verge of tears or nausea. Maybe both. How many more deaths would he have to face before this was over? Images of Drake, Nia, Farfalee, Jasher, and all the volunteer drinlings flashed through his mind. Now Ferrin. He half-collapsed onto a nearby rock, shaking his head. How many more deaths _could _he face?

"We're in an ideal place to make camp for the night," Aram murmured. "That cave over there should provide plenty of cover. I'll try to start a fire." He left for the nearby shelter without another word.

Worry lines creased Corinne's face as she stepped toward Jason. "Are you sure?" she asked.

He nodded, then paused. Could Ferrin have betrayed them at the end? Let go of the connection to his ear and tried to join the servants of Maldor again? The thought made his grief boil into the beginnings of anger. But would the ear be this cold, this... dead, if that were the case? He refused to believe that this was a sign of betrayal, even if the alternative was much worse. Jason nodded again. "He told me this would happen if he died." His voice shook slightly.

Corinne joined Jason on the boulder, but she sat farther from him than normal, as if she sensed his need for space.

Jason didn't move. "I wish I knew how it happened... if anyone else..."

Corinne only nodded. She seemed at a loss for words. Jason couldn't blame her.

"Ferrin was my first friend in Lyrian," he remembered, voice still trembling. "Rachel and I were so alone. We weren't really even friends yet, we didn't know what we were doing. This world was still too strange. And then he joined us. He taught us how to survive in the wilderness, helped us break out of jail, helped me learn to ride a horse. Even though he was spying, he's half the reason we didn't die before we met Jasher. And if it weren't for him, I would still be in Felrook." Jason clenched his jaw again, determined not to cry in front of Corinne.

She nodded, eyes downcast and perhaps a little wet. "Ferrin was the one who reminded me what fun was after I left the tree. All those years of loneliness, then all the running. Our swordplay lesson in the Seven Vales made me feel truly alive again."

Several yards away, Aram stoked a simple campfire, his expression distant.

More memories stirred inside of Jason. He tried to hold back his emotions, but what was the use? He had done his best to grieve Drake in silence for Farfalee's sake. Farfalee, Jasher, and Nia had all died in such quick succession and the Wanderer had not given him time to mourn. Who was he faking a smile for now? Who would he help by pretending that the death of his friends didn't affect him, didn't matter?

The answer was no one, and Jason knew it. So he let the tears spill from his eyes. He couldn't grasp that if he ever reunited with his friends, Ferrin wouldn't be there. Not to tease Aram when he shrank during the day or to crack jokes or to provide useful information. He couldn't help wondering what other faces he would find missing if or when he returned. They were marching on Felrook; it was almost realistic that each of them would die. The tears came faster and hotter. Jason didn't bother to see what Corinne was thinking about this sudden breakdown that, maybe, wasn't even that sudden at all.

After several minutes, Jason wiped his eyes with his free hand, returning his focus to the displacer's ear in his other. Keeping it wouldn't serve much of a purpose anymore. He might as well dispose of it.

But he didn't. Part of him hoped that, if he ever saw the other members of the delegation again, there might be a grave where he could bury the ear and the brachial artery with their proper owner. Maybe that was wishful thinking. But he didn't care.

Jason placed Ferrin's ear back in his pocket and stood, all at once grateful and disheartened for the tangible memory of his lost friend.


End file.
